


Little Soldier

by Gray_Skies_Rising



Series: Living in the Dawn and Dusk [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: (yet), Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, And kinda bashes the Wayne’s Muder, Blanket Permission, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Child Soldiers, Dark Batfamily (DCU), Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Implied/Referenced Starvation, Jason Todd is Not Robin, Mentioned Willis Todd, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Willis Todd is not a good father, but only a smidge, he also totally calls Bruce a furry, you can pry Jason’s accent from my warm dead hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Skies_Rising/pseuds/Gray_Skies_Rising
Summary: It was the Batmobile.Thegorgeouscar, with tires that could keep Jason well fed for at least two weeks, and was justbeggingto be stolen because it was parked inCrime Alleyof all places.Was thefucking Batmobile.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: Living in the Dawn and Dusk [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1735045
Comments: 17
Kudos: 419





	Little Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Tw: child soldiers, past child abuse, past starvation, panic attack, non-consensual drugging, Jason’s potty mouth
> 
> Please tell me if I missed any!

Jason was in deep shit. The deepest shit he’s ever been in.

He was cornered with no visible escape routes and was about to get beaten to a bloody pulp.

This was not how he thought he was going to die. He was picturing getting food poisoning or freezing to death. Not getting beaten and left for dead because he stole from the wrong person.

Everyone knew you were more likely to die from your injury’s when there was no Robin to reel in Batman.

Now, you may be asking yourself, _‘What could he have possibly stolen from the_ _Batman_ _?’_

And Jason, before his untimely demise at the age of eleven, would then answer with, “Well, ya see, that’s a funny story…”

It was the Batmobile.

The _gorgeous_ car, with tires that could keep Jason well fed for at least two weeks, and was just _begging_ to be stolen because it was parked in _Crime Alley_ of all places.

Was the _fucking Batmobile._

Jason had gotten three of the tires off, rolled them away, and was working on the fourth when he discovered this fact.

And how did he discover this?

Well, let’s just say Batman had a flair for the dramatics. He enjoys standing just enough out of sight that all it takes is one stray flick of a person's eyes to catch onto his dark silhouette.

Jason’s eyes only needed to catch the toes of Batman’s boots before he had dropped his tie iron and was sprinting as far away from the car as possible.

He only made it three steps before a hand had snaked out and grabbed his wrist, and slammed him against the Batmobile.

Fuck.

His.

Life.

“Where are the other tires?”

Jason’s arm was twisted in a way that he couldn’t get away without having it snap. It hurt like a bitch, but standing on his tiptoes helped alleviate the pain.

“Le’ go of me, ya big boob!”

Probably not the smartest thing to say to a man that could snap you in half, but Jason wasn’t going to go down without a fight. And he thinks he deserves a non-violent death for when he dies on the streets.

Batman pushes just a tiny bit harder on his arm and a new wave of pain rolls through him.

Jason’s free hand frantically tried to find purchase on anything to help levitate him, but the slick outside of the Batmobile provided little grip.

“OKAY! OKAY!” He thinks his voice shot up a pitch or two, but Jason didn’t really know. “They’re behin’ the dumpster. Just, le’ me go.”

Batman eased up on his arm, and Jason sighed in relief.

However, when Batman stepped away fully, he was still holding Jason’s wrist.

Jason pulled against Batman’s grip. Batman didn’t budge.

“Le’ me go, ya fuckin’ furry! I ‘ready told ya where ya’r damn tires are!”

He continued to struggle against Batman’s hold. Batman just watched Jason, not budging in any way, shape, or form.

So here Jason was, at age eleven, orphaned, homeless, and about to be left for dead by Batman because he decided to jack the _goddamn Batmobile’s tires_ so he could have money to eat. This really wasn’t how he saw his day going.

Then Batman let out a snort of laughter.

And Jason went stock still.

Because… _Batman laughed._

What.

The.

Everloving.

_Fuck?_

That just didn’t happen. Ever.

Batman was a stoic figure that never showed emotions. He was a living, vengeful shadow.

And he just _laughed._

Jason was pretty sure he was already dead.

He had died and gone to what he thought was Heaven. He had seen the most gorgeous car that he could dream of, with the added bonus that it could feed him for the weeks to come. Only, as he nearly had his prize, the illusion of Heaven was stripped away to leave the barren landscape of Hell as Batman stepped out of the shadows. And now the Devil himself was laughing at Jason.

Jason didn’t know how to respond. So he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Wha’s so fuckin’ funny, huh?

“He’s getting cussed out by a six year old that also stole his tires. What’s not to find funny?”

Jason turned as far as he could, his arm still in Batman’s painful grip, to glare at Robin.

Robin responded with a smile that had too many teeth.

“First of all, fuck off, I’m eleven. Second of all, if he didn’t want his car jacked, maybe he shouldn’t park in a place that is _literally_ called _Crime fuckin’ Alley_!”

“It’s _legally_ called Park Row,” Robin mocked from his perch on a fire escape, his grin growing sharper.

“Only people who work for the government, rich assholes, and anyone that is ‘trying to show respect’,” Jason airquoted the words with his free hand hand for emphasis, “ta two dead people, call it Park Row. Guess what, hundreds of people died here before they did. Hundreds of people have died here after they did. I don’t see the whole city mournin’ for those people, just a couple with more money than they could ever use in a lifetime, choosin’ ta walk down the wrong alley at the wrong time. What. A. Tragedy. Shakespearean level, truly.”

Robin was no longer smiling his condescending smile, he was scowling. Jason knew he had hit a nerve and should probably back off, before Robin tipped over the edge, but Jason loved putting people in their place.

“When I die in the same alley as all the others, nobody’s going ta mourn me. Nobody’s going ta even know I’m gone but the officers that’ll have ta pull me out of the gutter when I start to smell. Nobody’s going ta visit the churchyard grave. A grave that’ll say, ‘Here lies Jason Todd,’ nothing else. No ‘Rest in Piece’. No ‘he was a beloved -insert affectionate moniker here-. I’m going ta be not’in’ more than another forgotten street rat that only got the grave ‘cause neither of his parents could. But they had a bit of money. There are probably flowers scattered all year ‘round. When the people hear their name, they’ll whisper about how sad it was that they died so soon. Nothing like the forgotten street rat.”

Jason was riling himself up with his speech, but Robin had his hackles raised and was shifting his weight around like a cornered animal. It was extremely entertaining to watch.

He was so enthralled in watching Robin grow more and more defense of the words that Jason was throwing into his face, that he didn’t even notice that both of his hands were now free.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder.

A hand just like _his._

Just like when _he_ would come back.

Shoulders squared, heals snapped together, back straightened, mouth clicked shut.

Jason’s gaze was straightforward and non-blinking.

Just like the little soldier he was raised to be.

Robin’s laugh was even more bone chilling in person.

Jason didn’t dare move a muscle, even just his eyes to glance at Robin.

“I like him,” Robin was practically singing as he swung into Jason’s, unseeing, line of sight, “Can we keep him?”

“He’s his own person, Robin.”

Batman’s gravely voice should be grounding for Jason, but he was barely processing the world right in front of him.

All he could hear was _his_ voice echoing in his head.

_Be your Daddy’s good little soldier, okay? Be a good soldier and maybe you’ll get some dinner, ‘Kay?_

Robin shrugged his shoulders in a way that clearly substituted for rolling his eyes.

“Did that stop me last time?”

A deep sigh shook Jason’s whole body.

He couldn’t stop shaking.

But he had too.

He couldn’t eat if he couldn’t be still.

He needed to be a _good little soldier._

“Uh, B? Jay isn’t looking too hot right about now.”

There were unfamiliar hands touching him now.

He needed to move.

Needed to get away.

But he was _so hungry._

Daddy said he could eat if he was still.

“I’ve got him.”

_Fuck,_ was all Jason could think as a needle pierced his neck and he was enveloped in darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are not only appreciated but encouraged!


End file.
